Ready, Aim, Misfire
by MorbidbyDefault
Summary: "That's weird," thought Cupid. "I've never hit the wrong person like that before." ******* Sherlolly sexytimes ensue...slight spoilers if you don't care to know things about setlock photos and events. Rating is for Sexytimes. :)


So, this story comes from the all-powerful Writing Prompts Jar...which gives me artificial plot bunnies to show to the world. Anyway, this one was pulled from the jar, and I decided it would make for a very good Sherlolly fic...so here ya go. The original prompt:

"_That's weird," thought Cupid. "I've never hit the wrong person like that before."_

**Keep in mind, I do NOT own Sherlock Holmes, Molly Hooper, BBC Moff/tiss/ACD...OR ANGELS WITH ARROWS!**

That is all.

Enjoy!

**Ready, Aim, Misfire:**

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

"But Mother, it hurts! I just wanted a taste, what gives them the right to deny me that joy?" The small cherub asked the beautiful goddess. Venus tossed back her head in laughter, looking down at her son with sympathetic, yet amused eyes.

"My dear Cupid, don't you think it's only just that you receive the same sting you deliver to the mortals? You too are small, like the bees, and yet, you are left in charge of such sweet and tempting nectar that is love." She explained to the small winged boy. He huffed out a breath in earnest disappointment, but nodded his head briefly, as if to tell her he understood. The goddess bent down and kissed his rosy and puffed cheeks gently, before kissing the pierce marks on his fingers, forehead, and nose.

"Now, why don't you run along and play? And leave those poor bees alone." She commanded in a gentle voice. The tiny angel boy brooded, and sulked about for a moment, before he decided upon a brilliant idea.

"I could be a bee!" He exclaimed to himself. Having the power of the gods on his side, despite his wee stature, Cupid successfully transformed his shape, into that of a small, seemingly harmless bumblebee. 'Now for the real fun!'

OoOo

The weather in London was surprisingly warm, a beautiful day for a wedding. The garden was in full bloom, such lovely flowers. White roses lined the aisle, along with sprigs of lavender and lilies, tied with bits of purple silk ribbon. The tiny bee watched happily from his post near the back of the garden, content in delighting at the work of his mother. The groom, a yellow haired mortal, stood with a wide and beaming grin on his face. He looked up the long lane that was created between the rows of seats. At the opposite end, stood the bride. She too was of the light hair color, looking quite pleased and lovely in her gown. Cupid buzzed happily as he looked around at the guests, spotting an assortment of potential candidates for his next match up.

"There," he buzzed, "that petite and plain woman. She looks as though she needs a mate." Half of his new project selected, the cherub-bee god set out to select a male mortal for her companionship. 'Make him kind, make him caring.' He could hear his mother tell him, always one for wanting the happiness of the mortals to come easily. He buzzed to another row, closer to the procession as it played out. After scanning the crowd again, he spotted his target. The man was of medium height, with a dapper look and striking silver hair. He had noticed him earlier, talking to the female human in the bright yellow dress. 'Perfect!' He thought, smiling proudly at his plan as it half unfolded without his help.

Now all that awaited was the end of the ceremony, when the guests would scatter amongst themselves to mingle. Cupid waited, hiding his small form in the bouquet of one of the bridesmaids now, for a better listen and cue as to when he could spring into action.

"You may now kiss the bride." He heard the priest state happily. Cheers erupted as the new united couple pressed their lips together. Cupid felt a swell of pride as he remembered shooting these two just a year prior. 'It's nice to see your own work play out.' The boy smiled. Having received the all clear, he flew out cautiously, making his way for the man in the blueish colored suit. The mortal made his way toward the girl with the large golden ribbon stuck in her hair.

"Perfect!" Buzzed the little boy. This would be easier than he thought. He whizzed quickly to be by their sides, ready to take his mark. However, this was a tad different from when he simply flew about with the quiver of love arrows and his wonderfully accurate bow. Being a bee was quite different, as he now had to sting his targets...from behind. With a sigh, Cupid made his way to turn around, aiming his hind quarters at the man. A swift thrust backward, and he felt his stinger puncture the mortal flesh. A hiss of pain resounded from the man, and Cupid quickly pulled away, not wanting to be swatted at.

"Damned bee." Came the voice of a man. However, not _the_ man he had intended on hearing the words from. With a horrified reaction, Cupid spun around to see just who he had run himself into. There, standing and investigating the wound on his hand, was not the man in blue with the silver hair, but a much taller, much more handsome man, with dark curls and a frankly cantankerous expression.

"That's weird," thought Cupid. "I've never hit the wrong person like that before."

OoOo

Sherlock shook the sting off of his hand, flexing his long fingers to ebb away the pain. He had come to ask Lestrade about a recent case. However, he was first sidetracked by the sharp puncturing sensation on the back of his hand. Next, and much more inconveniently so, he found himself suddenly fascinated by the appearance and presence of one pathologist, Molly Hooper.

"What was that, Sherlock?" Greg asked, watching the detective's eyes seem to glaze over as he went out of focus from their conversation.

"Nothing, just suggesting you go try the punch. Also, I do believe Mary's sister had expressed her interest in you earlier. She's just over there by the refreshments table." He answered in a stoic, yet mystified voice. Lestrade looked up to the tall and enigmatic man, before shrugging his shoulders, and looking to Molly. She looked over to him with an equal look of confusion, before weakly smiling at him. Greg sighed, before walking away from the two, and heading toward the grinning bridesmaid.

"Hello, Sherlock." Molly smiled shyly. Sherlock gazed over her appearance, taking in the way the soft fabric clung to her skin. The bright color would normally seem almost nauseating to him, but in this instance, in this lighting, or perhaps it was just the way it balanced with her soft brown hair, he didn't seem to mind it so much.

"Hello, Molly." Sherlock answered, his voice choking on itself in the back of his throat. He coughed, sputtering on the stuck air in his lungs. A concerned look washed over Molly's face as she stepped forward to offer her help.

"Oh, are you alright?" she asked. He nodded, clearing his throat a few times over, until he could feel the thickness ease just a bit. If only a bit. 'That's odd.' Sherlock thought to himself.

"Oh, um...good." Molly muttered. "Do you want to go get some punch? For your cough?" She asked quickly, offering to go and fetch the refreshment for him. He shook his head, suddenly not wanting her to leave his side.

"No, I'm perfectly alright Molly. Thank you." He responded shortly. Realizing how he had come across to her, the detective ended up following up the statement with, "Actually, I was wondering if you would like to accompany me on a walk." Sherlock murmured, odd for his usually stoic and confident remarks. Molly blushed visibly, before looking around her surroundings.

"Uh...sure!" She smiled brightly. Sherlock offered up his arm for her to take, an act that he himself had no original intent on doing. Molly giggled softly, before looping her arm through his. The sound of her laughter sent shock waves coursing through him, a ringing in his ears that the _usually_ clever man could not discern the actual source of. They walked over the green grass and along the trail that lead out of the outdoor courtyard of the little church. The two were silent, simply enjoying the cool air that breezed past them.

"The ceremony was lovely." Molly stated quietly. Sherlock looked down to her, and hummed slightly in agreement. He gazed over the woman beside him, looking at the place where their arms were linked. He caught her doing the same, and he promptly looked away.

"Is...how is your hand?" She asked again, just as shyly, just as cautiously, as if her words would spur him into a frustrated deduction. Sherlock looked down, to see that she had stopped walking, her fingers wrapping around and fitting into his palm as she investigated the small hole in the back of his hand. As her thumb grazed lightly over the top of it, Sherlock hissed out a bit in pain. Molly gasped in response, her eyes shooting up to his.

"I...I'm sorry." She apologized, again nervously. He relaxed a bit, sinking into a calm state as he looked into her brown eyes.

"It's quite alright, Molly. I believe it is just an annoying insect sting, nothing that a bit of lotion or a kiss wouldn't fix." Sherlock replied nonchalantly, before realizing just _what_ he had said. Molly's eyes were almost as wide as his own, almost. He stumbled over his tongue, trying to find words to correct his bluntness, when he was shocked by hers.

"Well, I don't have any lotion..." She started to say, before bringing his hand up to her face. Gently, ever so gently, she placed a soft kiss across the top of his hand, directly over the place where the bee sting was. The texture of her lips rolled easily over his sensitive skin, and Sherlock found himself wanting to feel it more.

Molly, seemingly now a mind reader, pressed another kiss to his skin, this time, to the palm of the same hand. Sherlock only watched on as she did so, finding himself very intrigued, no, _infatuated_, with the way the flesh of her small lips would slowly peel away from the ridged lines of his calloused hand.

"Molly..." He heard himself saying in a husky voice. 'That's definitely odd.' He thought to himself. She looked up, and pulled his hand away from her lips a bit. She took a shaky breath in, her skin bumping up with goose pimples.

"Sherlock..." She answered back, her voice just as breathy as his had been. That did it. Before either of them knew what was happening, Sherlock had pulled her into his arms, and was devouring her small sensitive lips in his bowed and larger one. Molly whimpered under his advances, feeling herself go limp in his arms. The detective felt it too, and embraced her all the more.

"I...I think we need...somewhere less...exposed." She rasped in between the deepening touches and kisses. Sherlock nodded in agreement, before grabbing her hand and quickly leading her back toward the chapel. He looked about the place, before ushering her into a side door along the wall of the old brick building. Once they were inside, the clever man looked for signs of life. Finding none, he immediately led Molly to a small alcove, more specifically, an abandoned coat closet. He turned on the small chain light above them, exposing the hooks they needed to avoid. Closing the door, he turned and gazed down at her.

They took to snogging again. It was sloppy, full of a teenage-like passion and fueled with pure desire. Molly quickly found herself pinned up against one wall of the closet, Sherlock's hands coming to her waist on either side. Her own hands were entwined in the collar of his tux jacket, as she insistently tried pushing it off over his shoulders. The man was only too happy to let her remove the garment, coming to her aid as he tossed it somewhere behind him. Next came his tie, which she had almost accidentally choked him with. They pulled away, and she giggled as he caught his breath.

"Sorry." She laughed. A wicked grin spread over his face as he tugged the strip of fabric from its knot, and tossing it to the ground as well. He soon removed the big bow from her hair as well, sending her hair cascading down into loose and messy strands. Sherlock could feel himself grow more needy of her, the pressure of want building up inside his lower belly. He looked down, to find her fingernails clawing open button after button of his dress ensemble.

"You look very lovely in that dress, Molly. However, I'd like to compare, if I may..." He asked politely, but urgently making his fingers on her zipper known. Molly turned herself to face away from him, her back now revealing the long path of metal teeth that lined her entire spine. Sherlock pulled down on it slowly, temptingly. He watched in sure wonder as bit by bit of her silky skin was revealed to his eye, until finally, the zip had reached the end of its path. Molly allowed him to push the wide straps off her shoulders, the dress dropping to the floor around her feet. She could feel him suck in a breath, before emitting a low guttural growl of approval. A gasp left her throat as he leaned down, leaving a trail of kisses and nips at her shoulder and up her neck.

"I..I feel a bit dizzy, Sherlock." She sighed out happily, a light smile playing at her lips. She felt him chuckle against her skin, before he turned her back around and hoisted her up into his hold. They returned to kissing, but had begun caressing each other with much swifter need. In a move of bravery and pure lust on her part, Molly's legs wound themselves up and around his waist, pressing his strained trousers up against her. They both moaned at this new found sensation, and again took to escalating the actions.

His shirt hung open off his shoulders at this point, and he fumbled hastily with the belt and buttons on his trousers. The feeling of his hand between them was enough to send shivers of delight through Molly, and she mewed lightly. The detective's brow quirked as a smirk found its way to the corner of his mouth, and he rubbed his hand against her with more pressure. She gasped loudly, her head falling back to land against the wooden wall of the coat closet they were currently defiling.

"Sherlock please. I need you now." She moaned softly. And he hated to keep such a lovely and delectable woman waiting. Having finally worked his trousers and pants down and past his knees, an exposed consulting genius, or rather, ordinary man in this case, eased his way into her. The joining of their bodies set off fireworks through the both of them, making Molly graciously moan encouragements into his ear, Sherlock grunting lowly as he pushed further into her core. They soon built up a steady pace, their breaths mingling together and becoming just as one as the rest of their bodies were.

"Oh good Lord, Sherlock." She moaned loudly, the sound resounding in his head as one of his new favorite memories.

"Language, Miss Hooper. We are...mmm...after all...in a church." He managed to huff out between his swiftly more sporadic thrusts. Molly chuckled breathlessly, her laugh shaking both of their hypersensitive bodies to another notch closer to climactic release.

"All the...better place to...confess after, right?" She retorted right before another moan of approval took over. Sherlock simply nodded his head, which had dropped down to lean against her breasts. He quickened the pace, feeling both of their walls crumbling much too rapidly. Finally, with a few more hard pushes against her, he felt them both fall over the edge together. Having lost his footing and strength in his legs, the pair of them slid down the closet wall. Sherlock now on his knees and still supporting Molly's featherlight weight on top of his thighs. Molly resting her upper half against the wall, her pelvis still pressed firmly against his.

They remained this way as they rode out the aftershocks of ecstasy, both of their skin trembling with the combination of tenderness and clamminess together. Finally, when they had both managed to regain a bit of strength in their limbs, the moved apart from each other. After several minutes of redressing, carefully ensuring that they looked unruffled in appearance, they left the small confined room they had just occupied. As they walked outside again, the two linked arms once more, bright smiles lining both of their faces.

OoOo

In the bouquet of the bride now, sat a depressed little cherub. He had decided to change back to himself, having realized that life in the form of a bee was not what he had expected it to be. 'And I've messed up.' He scolded himself sadly. However, until he looked up to see two people entering through the gate and into the reception once more. A lovely, brown haired mortal with bright yellow garments, and slightly rosier cheeks, accompanied by a tall and slender, incredibly handsome, and equally red mortal man. Cupid sat upright, watching the two as they did not separate, but rather moved about the garden together. He smiled winningly, excitedly, as he watched her thumb stroke lovingly over the swollen bump on the top of his hand.

"_My record remains untarnished. I didn't hit the wrong person, after all!"_

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

YAY! Well, what do you all think? Was it good? I should explain a bit.

I did a little bit of research on Cupid, mainly with the intent of finding out about the magical bow and love arrows he used. However, on the article I read, it discussed a story of myth, in which young Cupid attempts to steal honey from a hive of bees, thus landing him with sting after sting from the little creatures. He rushes to his mother, Venus, who merely laughs at him and explains how it's only fair that he receive the same pain that he inflicts with the sting of love. This incident makes him turn himself into a bee for a time, going around and stinging people to fall for each other instead of shooting them with arrows.

Bees and Sherlock are synonymous, so it seemed only natural and right that I go with this option. I hope it paid off well, and that you all enjoyed this. Thanks for reading, and reviewing, if and when you do. Also, big thanks to Sarah for picking this one out of the jar...and thanks to Stephanie...for making the jar in the first place. :D


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